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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28031931">said i was your favourite</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/taeyeons/pseuds/taeyeons'>taeyeons</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>watch the clouds float, white ferrari [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Small Towns, really short scenes, they bake, they drive ard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:27:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28031931</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/taeyeons/pseuds/taeyeons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>And they had each other during the wintry days with Jaemin wrapping the blue scarf around Mark's neck, his touch warmer than anything else.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mark Lee/Na Jaemin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>watch the clouds float, white ferrari [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2074194</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>said i was your favourite</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>*peeks out* hi... it's my lil debut in the nct ficdom wippee ♡</p><p>written for day 4 (theme:scarf) of alittlewonder fest. yes, i'm aware i'm late. i briefly skimmed through this so do let me know if there's any error. anyway, i sat down with tswift's all too well and went feral so i hope you enjoy reading this! xx let me know ur lil thoughts and such hehe</p><p>pssst do check out the other drabbles/ficlets of #23daysofwonder!! i insist!! (◡‿◡✿)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The winter season was never his favourite season, to begin with.</p><p> </p><p>Mark prefers the promise of spring, the blooming gardens, the light skip in his steps carried by the breeze. People would think he’d be biased towards summer in favour of his birthday but the sweltering heat and trinkling sweat down his back are hardly things he’d miss. Wearing loose sweaters with bermuda shorts and watching the lone plant he picked out on a whim perk up are more of his forte.</p><p> </p><p>December is bleak, Mark is constantly dreading the holiday season despite all the possibilities. Christmas, snow angels and singing carols may appeal to the next person but Mark is too drowned in the blue morbidity of the season.</p><p> </p><p>That’s when Mark met <em> him. </em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know if you’re being serious.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin smiled for a second, then he chuckled with a growing grin gracing his lips. It is such a classic quirk that Mark has learnt to associate with Jaemin; the way that he’s always giving into the amusement, never selfish about the smiles he gives away.</p><p> </p><p>“I am,” Jaemin emphasised with a firm nod but the amusement was clear in his eyes. Mark reached over to playfully slap his arm, interrupting him with a wince. Rubbing at the spot (<em> that </em> had Mark rolling his eyes at), Jaemin continued in a very, <em> very </em>serious tone. “Being Santa’s elf is a consequential job, Mark Lee.”</p><p> </p><p>“You want the two of us dressed up in green and pointy shoes,” and when Jaemin nodded once again, even more solemnly, Mark narrowed his gaze further. “Now I’m concerned, I can’t possibly like someone who’s into this sort of foreplay.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin’s look of solemnity crumbled and it’s softened by a small smile, his teeth peeking through, slowly. “You...like me?” </p><p> </p><p>Mark shot him an unimpressed look, though his heart was thudding faster at the softening expression on Jaemin’s face for no fucking reason other than the fact that Jaemin is unnecessarily endearing. Someday, he would learn to be immune to these odd quirks of Na Jaemin and be freed from these little ...tugs at his heartstrings. There’s only so much that Jaemin is capable of, and yet, Mark finds himself being surprised every single time, losing himself in Jaemin’s gaze.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ve been dating for a month, Na,” Mark said pointedly. “It’d be weird if I don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s still nice to hear it,” Jaemin said defensively, eyes still brimming with hope which made Mark sigh further.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, let’s...be Santa’s elves or whatever.”</p><p> </p><p>The brightness of Jaemin’s smile seared into the back of Mark’s mind, burning his insides.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Na Jaemin was the brightest wonder of the winter, wandering into Mark’s life on the first snow day. </p><p> </p><p>With his odd, cerulean blue scarf peeking out of his long, trench coat, he was a sight at the coffee shop. Mark usually remembered every regular, almost every customer because the town was small. He hardly met anyone new, it wasn’t a town worth raving about, worth a visit in the holidays. </p><p> </p><p>And so, it further piqued Mark’s curiosity.</p><p> </p><p>(And blue has always been Mark’s favourite colour.)</p><p> </p><p>“What’s his order?” Mark detached himself from the line, which might mess up in a while but he’d risk it, he’d give in. </p><p> </p><p>“Which one?” Taeil had his eyes fixated on the screen of his iPad, trying to decipher some numbers. When Mark pointedly didn’t answer, he groaned lightly and looked up. “What is it, kiddo?”</p><p> </p><p>Mark jerked his chin towards the table, three places away from the front door. To think of it, the seat was quite literally in the middle of the coffee shop, easily catching anyone’s attention from inside and outside. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Jaemin?” Taeil said and the name didn’t ring a single bell in Mark’s mind so he must really not be from around here. “That’s a hot Americano with three extra shots of espresso. He originally asked for five but I’m not up for writing an incident report on a cardiac arrest in the middle of my damn coffee shop.”</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t lost on Mark, the fact that Taeil knew his name, the curl of those syllables familiar on his tongue as compared to Mark’s. Taeil had rolled his eyes and indulged him in his questions, answering in a tone one would use with kids. </p><p> </p><p>His gaze strayed to the boy — Jaemin then, his cheek resting against the palm of his hand whilst idly scrolling through his phone. There was a book in front of him, abandoned however, and Mark was further intrigued by his character. </p><p> </p><p>The hot Americano settled on the table, a few inches by the book, and Jaemin looked up, greeting Mark with a smile too bright to be casual, yet this was the boy that Mark learnt about from Taeil’s anecdotes. There was more to the surface and a few words. It still didn’t deter Mark from being entranced with his smile and he stood there for far too long, not registering the moment Jaemin spoke to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry? I didn’t catch that.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin’s smile widened, fully crinkling his eyes in faint amusement. “I said thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah,” Mark nodded, feeling the sinking disappointment for no utter reason. He gestured to the table awkwardly, “Enjoy?”</p><p> </p><p>Right before Mark could turn back to his duties as an actual barista and not just a daydreamer, Jaemin interrupted, clearing his throat. “Are you— Do you… uh.”</p><p> </p><p>If Mark wasn’t endeared by the pretty smile, he was now by the clumsiness and clear flush painting Jaemin’s cheeks in pink. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin bit his bottom lip, looking up at Mark with the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen. Those lashes framing his eyes, the clarity in his irises. Mark wondered how stars would look reflected off those eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you a local?”</p><p> </p><p>Mark nodded, “Born here.” He hesitated a little before continuing, “Taeil told me that you moved here for a job.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah… Taeil isn’t wrong,” Jaemin looked abashed for some reason that Mark couldn’t comprehend. “I feel a bit lost…” Then, his eyes widened as if in realisation. “Fuck! God, where’s my manners. What’s your name?” </p><p> </p><p>His eyes fell on Mark’s uniform, probably looking for the name tag that everyone in the coffee shop wore but Mark had a habit of losing his tag and so, Taeil gave up on chiding him.</p><p> </p><p>"Mark Lee." And since he also has a habit of jumping over boundaries or blurring the line, he slid in to the seat across this stranger. This boy with the blue scarf and pretty smile. Mark leaned in and the corner of his mouth tugged upwards, “Want me to show you around, Jaemin?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin held his hand, spreading his fingers out against Mark’s knuckles, and said, “Do you know that I love your hands?”</p><p> </p><p>“Amongst other things, I hope.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no, look at how small you are!” Jaemin cooed and held Mark’s hand up as if he didn’t already know how inexplicably smaller in size his hand is compared to Jaemin’s. It’s a difference that dizzies Mark’s head sometimes, to see Jaemin catching his pinky sometimes and then wrapping his hand around Mark’s like it was nothing.</p><p> </p><p>“Baby, I’m trying to watch this with you,” Mark nodded at the laptop screen where the film was still playing, they weren’t even in the middle of it. Jaemin never had the attention span for films which used to irritate Mark to no end. “Are you bored already?”</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin was pouting which meant nothing well usually. “Maybe…?”</p><p> </p><p>Mark stared at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Can we just stop—” at this, Jaemin waved a flippant hand at the screen and leaned in closer to Mark, the scent of fresh mint and lavender wavering in Mark’s senses. “I want to be with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> am </em>here with you,” Mark jostled their hands together to emphasise his point but Jaemin wasn’t letting his pout up.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not...close enough, love. I want...” Jaemin sighed, cutting himself off, but before Mark could even say anything in rebuttal, he shifted his body and shuffled closer to Mark in the tiny bed. His warmth overwhelmed Mark, the line of his long body pressed against his and he wanted nothing but to sigh into Jaemin’s embrace.</p><p> </p><p>His lips ghosted over Mark’s cheek, pecking lightly until he stopped at Mark’s own lips. His heart stuttered and Jaemin’s gaze fell to the pucker of Mark’s lips, something dark glistening in those irises. The air was thick and Mark felt so, so warm.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> This </em> close,” Jaemin whispered but Mark felt every word against his skin. His gaze flitted to Mark’s and he saw the reflection of his desire in Jaemin’s irises. “Will you let me?”</p><p> </p><p>Mark had never known how to say no to him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The kitchen held an aroma of apples and hope and the holidays.</p><p> </p><p>If there was something relatively close to a Christmas activity that Mark indulged in, it was baking. He could hardly put together a meal on the gas stove, but the oven is his friend. In early mornings or late nights (sometimes the two blended together for him), he would bake in batches and send them off to any poor victim. Though, he had been told that his baking is his only saving grace in the kitchen so perhaps, Mark isn’t terrible at it.</p><p> </p><p>So this time, it wasn’t really his fault.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you said you knew how to bake?” Jaemin spluttered around a mouthful of their second try of an apple pie. His face grimaced at the taste, Mark had already tried and it was too doughey for some reason. His readings were normally impeccable but he never had company with him before.</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin was more than just company; he was a nuisance, a pest. Feeding into Mark’s space, dipping into mixing bowls and licking his finger. Distracting Mark with incessant kisses to the point that Mark bit his lip until he winced (which egged him on, Mark should’ve known). Swinging his legs from the counter, making unnecessary commentary.</p><p> </p><p>“If you left me alone, I probably could finish this in an hour,” Mark grumbled, his bottom lip jutting out even further when Jaemin laughed at him, eyes crinkling prettily. He had a patch of flour on his cheek and some in his freshly inky black dyed hair. The contrast of his hair still surprised Mark every other day, especially since he was used to seeing the former in light colours.</p><p> </p><p>Not that Mark minded anyway.</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin sidled up next to him, hooking his chin over Mark’s shoulder casually and Mark momentarily forgot his hand coordinations, almost cutting himself. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay, I will stop distracting you, love,” Jaemin said and that was a promise to upkeep if they wanted an apple pie to bring to Renjun’s Christmas party. </p><p> </p><p>Mark chuckled, looking over at Jaemin and stealing a swift kiss before pouring his attention into the task at hand. With that, Jaemin sat primly, gazing at Mark as he moved around the kitchen in his usual fashion, the music crooning softly in the background, the sun descending in the horizon.</p><p> </p><p>And the apple pie came out, perfectly browned at the crust, the fragrant smell of sweetness and success, after three initial failures.</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin tasted of syrupy, saccharine apples later that night.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The picture of 3am was of Mark sliding over the gear, settling snugly in Jaemin’s lap, his back against the steering wheel. The witching hour had them driving around in circles in insomniac solidarity; Mark has never slept well and Jaemin lives with approximately four shots of espresso in his system. They were an odd pair, falling asleep in each other’s arms at odd hours on the couch and driving in the dimly lit night at midnight.</p><p> </p><p>They tend to run on these late night drives, in a chase against the stars. Jaemin once told him that he loved watching the stars try to catch up to him when he was speeding down the highway in a car (it was why he took his driving licence). Mark had looked at him then and kissed the corner of Jaemin’s mouth sweetly, for the innocence in his gaze, for he was the brightest star in Mark’s existence.</p><p> </p><p>Back then, Mark would stay up by the sill on his window with a cup of tea and write in his journal about the loneliness in his ribcage. Now, he found himself writing in the journal about a boy with the blue scarf at dawn, light drawing shadows against his words on paper.</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin ran his hands up and down Mark’s sides, watching him tremble under his touch. “<em> Tell me, </em>” he said in a low voice, his eyes darkening under the semblance of the moonlight. One of his hands crept up, up, towards Mark’s chest and through his loose jumper, Jaemin lightly circled around his hardening nipple. “How do you want me?”</p><p> </p><p>The area they were parked in was mostly deserted but Mark couldn’t help himself, darting a glance outside but before he could have a proper look, Jaemin had his hand on his jaw, forcibly turning him to face him. Mark swallowed, his gut tightening, his body going rigid, as Jaemin leaned in, his breath tickling his mouth. </p><p> </p><p>“Answer me, baby,” Jaemin whispered.</p><p> </p><p>Mark let out a whiny moan, squeezing Jaemin’s thighs, fidgeting on his lap. He could feel Jaemin’s boner and if he scooted closer, he could align their cocks together through the fabric and grind to feel the delicious friction. But the hand, the fingernails digging into his cheek halted him. </p><p> </p><p>A shiver ran through Mark as Jaemin trailed his hand against his nipple, the blood in his head rushing downwards and he was feeling light, light, light.</p><p> </p><p>“I… want—” Mark choked on the last syllable, jostling in his seat when Jaemin pinched on his nipple gently. His eyes fell close, still shivering under Jaemin’s electric touch. His words came out as a whisper, “I want <em> you </em>, Jaemin.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin hummed, cupping Mark’s jaw loosely. In his hand, Mark wanted so badly, a piece of Jaemin, to be devoured entirely, to never see the sunlight.</p><p> </p><p>“You can if you want to,” Jaemin had said, his eyes darkened to the point of no return, and Mark knew that this 3am fared way, way differently from the rest. “I’m yours to have.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>And Mark had him. </p><p> </p><p>Mark had Jaemin on the sunniest of days where winter was kind and he indulged in Jaemin’s ridiculous antics of spreading eagle hands in the snow. Mark had Jaemin on the stormiest of days where winter was brutal and he bit back a sob when Jaemin curled around him in  tight, unwavering embrace because the storms were always a reminder of lost, hopeless days. </p><p> </p><p>Mark had Jaemin on the plainest, simplest days where winter was… merely winter and they existed in whatever space they inhibited with their matching gazes and words and his growing attachment to the boy with the blue scarf.</p><p> </p><p>Mark had him, the promise of evermore tucked into the littlest things; Jaemin’s small, enamoured smile for his eyes, Mark’s scrawled writings of their shared blue scarf now, the ignition of the car rumbling at the ungodly hour.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>And then, Mark lost. Once again.</p><p> </p><p>The end of winter, years later, took Jaemin away into another bustling town. A goodbye that was more distant than the distance piling between them, which made Mark wonder where did the light in Jaemin’s eyes go, where did everything go astray, where did his star fall. </p><p> </p><p>Days of feeling lost and hopeless returned, demons of his past never far from his mind, more like a sick, twisted familiarity that weighed Mark down. </p><p> </p><p>Mark let Jaemin go then. After all, he could never say no to him.</p><p> </p><p>Mark fingers the ends of the blue scarf now, trailing his fingers over the lovely cerulean shade. It was long buried in the back of his closet, never forgotten. The art of finding things you wished disappeared into the air, this is one of them, and yet, the scarf hid like a ghost aching to be unleashed. </p><p> </p><p>The touch of the scarf alone feels like a time travelling machine where Mark sees Jaemin once again. The pretty smile, the slow, languid words, the carefully, articulated thoughts. Even when Mark doesn’t want to, he seeks him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “This scarf is prettier on you,” Jaemin smiled, though different from before. Mark had been learning the language of those smiles, this was when he revelled in the fact that it was only for him. The fondness, the soft, Mark was endeared.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Pursuing his lips, Mark shook his head, “Nothing could look prettier on me than you.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “You’re right, love,” Jaemin chuckled, pressing himself against Mark, tugging on the blue scarf loosely wrapped around Mark’s neck. “Indeed, nothing looks prettier on you than me.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The scarf folds neatly under Mark’s gentle touch, he wishes for the pin-pricking pain to his heart to ebb away with the memories.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Blue has always been Mark’s favourite colour, and even that, he has lost too.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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